


Orders By Heart

by my_dear_blogger (tardis_in_221b)



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Human!Spock, Jim is just Jim, M/M, OOC Spock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-28
Updated: 2013-07-28
Packaged: 2017-12-21 14:00:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/901109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tardis_in_221b/pseuds/my_dear_blogger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim is taking a desparate leap of faith by asking for numbers on his barista sign.  He doesn't really expect anything to come of it, but a new customer changes everything and turns Jim's world upside down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Orders By Heart

**Author's Note:**

> I've edited the original a bit so it will be less of an embarassment. Enjoy!

“The Coffee Bean” was no Starbucks.  It didn't have the latest in espresso machinery and it wasn't filled with teenagers taking pictures of their cups.  But it was cozy, even before it opened.  The yellow walls and antique lamps gave the little shop a warmth that made all the customers feel at home.  The threadbare sofa in the corner would be home to gossiping little old ladies in a couple hours, and the bell over the door would jingle when the sun-hardened farmers came in to get their morning fix.  The whirr of the milk frother, the whistle of the kettle and the chatter of locals clinking their coffee cups would meld into a symphony. The smell of cinnamon and coffee would permeate every corner of the shop and float through the streets, drawing in the sleepy-eyed regulars.

 No one really made coffee at home because the shop was the only place they could socialize.  Well, that and the cinnamon rolls were better than sex.  But the biggest draw to “The Coffee Bean” was, by far, Jim.  He had been working there since he was sixteen and he knew everyone’s name and order by heart.  He never rushed anyone out of the shop and he listened to all of the small-talk with a genuine interest.  The old ladies liked him for the sparkling in his ocean blue eyes that was coupled with his shining smiles that made you feel as if you were the only person in the world.  The farmers liked that he always got their order right and he made it faster than the time it took them to get the money out of their battered leather wallets.  He was the center around which the tiny shop orbited. 

For a small Christian town in Iowa, Fredonia was pretty accepting.  News traveled like wildfire, and when Jim came out he got nothing but support from everyone, even Mr. Pike, the straitlaced rancher down on Delilah’s Ridge.  Jim decided that his coffee must have had some kind of influence in the situation.  If he was driven out of town, the locals would lose their favorite (and only) barista.  Jim leaving would take the life out of the town.  There was a young, gay couple living on Arrowhead Road, Pavel and Hikaru, and they got the same support he did.  They met when Pavel was taking a class to better his broken English; Hikaru was his teacher.  They ran a flower store the next block over.  Hikaru: Orange Spice iced coffee with low-fat milk and two sugars.  Pavel: Peppermint hot chocolate, no matter what time of year, with extra whipped cream.

When Jim started working at the coffee shop, he was given a board to write specials on.  It started out normal, but it turned into an attraction of sorts.  Jim would write messages that would make the locals laugh, it was his thing.  Yesterday, he wrote a bad joke about a thesaurus being a dinosaur with a developed vocabulary. All of the kids loved it because he drew a dinosaur with glasses on the board.  Today was something different.  It was hard for Jim to find anyone interested in him since he knew almost everyone in town by name. And all of them were either too old, ladies, taken, or so far in the closet they found Narnia. He doubted that there would be any out-of-towners today (there were never any). But he figured that it couldn't hurt to try.                                                                                               

                                                                                                                  “Today your barista is:

                                                                                                                    1. Hella fricking gay.

                                                                                                                   2.  Desperately single

                                                                                                          For your drink today I recommend:

                                                                                                                 You give me your number.”

He might earn a glare from Mr. Pike, but he thought that it would make people laugh and get his point across at the same time.  There was a knock at the door.  He didn’t mind opening the shop early for the regulars; he usually got bigger tips for it.  It was Mrs. Marcus, trying to control her quarreling offspring.  Jim jogged over to flip the lock and let them in.  Mrs. Marcus had the most children Jim had ever seen, she must have had at least nine, but there were only three in tow today.  Jim set to work on her coffee.  Mrs. Marcus: Mocha late with a triple shot and chocolate drizzle. 

“Good morning, James—Carol stop hitting your brother—how are you?” She said trying to pry two of her progeny away from each other.

“I’m good Mrs. Marcus.  Only the triplets today?” He replied over the whirr of the milk frother.

“Yeah.” She said still struggling with the kids. “Alex has the others.  The house’ll be in ruins by the time I get back from bringing these to the dentist.”

Jim lidded the cup and set it on the counter, laughing.

“Do you really think he can’t handle the kids?”

“Yes, he has no idea what he’s doing.” She said handing Jim five dollars. She always let him keep the change.

“Well, I hope there’ll still be four walls when you get back.  Good luck with the dentist, kids.” He called after them as they went out the door.

 They chimed in, “Thank you.”

It would be another half hour until anyone else came into the shop, so Jim busied himself with small tasks, not expecting anyone else for awhile.  He was organizing the sweeteners when the bell jingled.  Jim nearly jumped out of his skin as his concentration was broken.  He turned around to see which drink he should make, but he was met with a brick wall.  He didn’t know the person that came into the shop.  That hadn’t happened in years and he was caught off guard.  It was a man, around his age, wearing crop jeans, flip-flops and a faded blue tee.  His hair was gelled back and his dark eyebrows framed his angular face.  Jim thought that he was the textbook definition of tall, dark, and handsome, with a bit of dusty hobo mixed in.  His eyes flicked around the shop and his brows knitted together, then rose when he read Jim’s barista sign. 

“Umm… can you help me?  I’m sort of… lost.  This was the only place open… so I… sort of… yeah.” He said rubbing the back of his neck, not making eye-contact.

“No problem.  You’re in Fredonia, Iowa.  If you really have no clue where you are, it’s in the south east corner of the state.  Where are you trying to get to?” Jim replied giving the man one of his famous smiles.

“I… umm… wow, your eyes are really blue.  Sorry!  I am sorry.  I didn’t—I was just… I don’t know where I’m going, really.” He said running a hand through his hair, and risking a small smile.

“You don’t really strike me as much of a drifter.  Can I get you anything?”

“I’m not a drifter, really.  More like an orphan with no direction. What do you have?  Sorry, I don’t see a menu anywhere.”

“That’s because we don’t have one.  In a small town like this everyone that comes here is a regular.” Jim said, trying to act cool by polishing a mug. “I know all of their orders by heart, no need for a menu.  I can probably make whatever you want, though.”

“I’ll have whatever’s strongest? I’ve had a long night.” He asked shifting from one foot to the other.

“Is a robusto light roast alright with . . . no, don’t tell me . . .  skim milk, no sugar?”

“Oh, you were so close. Nondairy creamer, no sugar. I’m lactose intolerant, sorry.”

“No problem at all.  If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your name?  I have, like, a catalogue in my head of people and what they usually drink.  I’m sorry, that probably sounds really weird.” Jim asked, pouring the coffee into an oversized mug.

“No it doesn’t sound weird at all.  My name’s Spock.”

“My name’s Jim.  That’s a really unusual name.  Is it a last name or first?”

“It’s my last name.  No one could ever pronounce my first name, so I’ve always just gone by that.”

“I’ll tell you what, Spock.  Since you’re lost and probably starving I’ll give you a cinnamon roll on the house.”

“Really? That would be great. Thank you so much.”

“Don’t mention it.  It’s three fifty for the coffee and you can sit down at one of those tables while I get you that cinnamon roll.” Jim said, eyes twinkling as he handed Spock the cup.

He got out his wallet and Jim almost gawked at the design.  It was a fucking rainbow wallet.  Jim didn’t want to believe that his luck was that good, so he tried to keep his face as neutral as possible. For all Jim knew, this tall, gorgeous, nervous creature that stumbled into his shop could just really like rainbows (like in the unicorn and leprechaun sense, wait that was still pretty gay). Spock got out a dollar and a handful of quarters and slid them across the counter. 

“Thanks. I’ll be right back.” Jim said trying his best not to stumble over his own feet. 

He hurried into the back to grab a couple rolls that were still hot and dripping with icing.  He gave himself a quick pep talk and shook out his nerves before he emerged again, a plate in each hand.  Spock was sitting at a table in the corner, gripping his cup so tightly you’d think someone was trying to rip it away from him.  Jim placed one plate in front of him and sat down opposite.

“Umm… that sign… you don’t mean it, do you?” Spock asked, talking into his coffee.

“Well, yeah I do.  It’s hard to find a boyfriend in a town of less than three hundred people.  Well, I mean, that and I sort of write something funny on the board every day.  The regulars like it. Well, most of the regulars. There’s this one farmer named Mr. Pike, I think he only tolerates me because I’m the only one that knows he drinks caramel macchiatos. I’m pretty sure he thinks I would blackmail him if he made any comments.” Jim said, laughing.

“So you’re actually gay?” He said looking up at him.

“Yeah, I actually am.” He said taking a bite of cinnamon roll.

“Could I take you up on your recommendation?”

Jim almost choked.  He really didn’t expect the shy stranger to say anything like that.  Spock saw Jim’s reaction and resumed staring into his cup.  Jim couldn’t stop smiling at him; he was too cute for words.  

“You could absolutely take me up on my offer, but I think I want a little more than just your number.” Jim said, turning on as much charm as he had.

Spock looked up, blushed until he was almost purple, and broke out in a smile that lit up his whole face.  He started to giggle, of all things.

“Really?  I don’t even know what to say.  I—I didn’t think you’d say yes.  This is… this is great.”

“You know, if you don’t want to stay at the inn you could stay—“ Jim said.

The bell jingled and Scotty walked in looking even more pissed than usual.  Mr. Scott, Scotty to those who knew him well, owned the general store.  He was widely known for his high alcohol tolerance; he could drink anyone under the table. He said it was because he was Scottish “born and raised, laddie.” He was the first customer, on normal days, and he didn’t stick around like some of the other regulars.  Scotty: large black coffee, drip brewed, with a generous splash of whiskey.

“Jim what’re ya doin’ sitting down? Get to work!  I don’t tip you for sitting on your arse all day, lad.” He said louder than was necessary.

Jim jumped out of his seat and rushed behind the counter to find Scotty’s bottle.  He poured the coffee and whiskey and handed him the burning hot cup.  Scotty picked it up and took a large gulp without hesitation.  He threw a ten on the counter.

“Keep the change.” He said, trudging out of the shop.

Jim went back over to Spock.

“He didn’t seem very nice.  I thought small towns like this were supposed to be full of little old ladies that pinched your cheeks.”

“We have plenty of those too.  Scotty’s just more pissed off than he usually is.  He’s normally a walking teddy bear.  Speaking of little old ladies, we’re in Miss Uhura and Miss Chapel’s seats.  They should be coming in any minute now.” Jim said picking up both their plates and moving them to a different table. 

Just as he said, two ladies entered the shop.  Miss Uhura and Miss Chapel were the most eligible octogenarian bachelorettes of Fredonia.  They were the source of gossip for the whole town.  They talked about anyone and everyone.  Neither of them had ever married and they had lived together for years, they were practically sisters.  Miss Chapel was like a mother to Jim.  She took him in when he ran away from home when he was thirteen. She had been the first one to tell Jim that she didn’t care that he was gay.  Miss Uhura was more like a crazy aunt.  The first thing she said to Jim after he came out was that he “would find a nice piece of ass in no time.” Miss Chapel: Lady Grey tea with a splash of milk and two sugars.  Miss Uhura: Cinnamon dolce late, no cinnamon sprinkled on top.

They were quick to notice the new addition to the shop.

“James, who is this lovely young man sitting in the corner?” Miss Chapel asked.

“Yes, and why haven’t you introduced us yet?” Miss Uhura interjected.

Jim couldn’t hide his new found fondness, “That’s Spock.  He just came into town.  He’s lost and he’ll be staying here for a little while.” He said, returning to his work station to start the kettle.

“See? I told you that you’d find a nice piece of ass.  That boy should be on the cover of GQ magazine.” Miss Uhura said.

“Well, I don’t know about GQ, but I have modeled for Ralph Lauren.” Spock said his shyness melting away.

Silence fell over the two.  They weren't used to anyone acknowledging their gossip, though everyone knew they did it, and everyone listened in.  Jim finished their drinks and they took their places at the table in the front window.  Jim went back over to sit with Spock, but he was stopped by Miss Uhura’s hand.

She simply patted his chest and said, “You picked a good one, Jim.”

Jim looked over to Spock.  He was swirling his finger in the specialty brew.  Jim’s stomach did a little flip, and somehow he knew that the lost stranger sitting in his little coffee shop wasn’t lost anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading and leaving comments!


End file.
